


Wherever the Wind Takes Us

by KatieComma



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Fluff, Immortal Husbands, M/M, Reflections on Love, Smut but not detailed and very brief, reflections on death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25540786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma
Summary: Nicky and Joe go back to Malta - directly after the events of the movie
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 6
Kudos: 144





	Wherever the Wind Takes Us

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure someone has done this better already... but this was in my head and wouldn't get out and I love them TOOOOO much.
> 
> This is my first foray into this fandom and these characters... so forgive me if they're OOC.

Nicky wanders to the doors leading to the small balcony. The wind caresses his skin, and he doesn’t much care that he’s naked. There’s no point getting dressed anyway by the look in Joe’s eye.

Nicky stands in the doorway and looks out over the twisty side street their room overlooks. The stone buildings catch the sun as it starts to rise, and they seem to glow. It’s just as he remembers. 

Nicky has never cared for North American cities, they have no memory. They tear down and rebuild constantly, destroying the old in place of the new and modern. But Europe... Europe remembers. There are places in Europe they can go that are the same as they were centuries before, with the occasional TV or radio to interrupt the illusion. Malta is one of those places.

“Nicky,” Joe speaks softly, voice still hoarse with sleep.

Nicky turns away from the view and toward a better one: Joe is laid out in the bed they slept in together, in the small old fashioned hotel room. He’s kicked the sheets away and his muscled body is limp with relaxation.

“Niccolo,” Joe says, still softly but with intent. He speaks the old Italian as is their habit when they’re alone. “You are more beautiful each day.”

Nicky laughs. “How can I be more beautiful when I never change?” He asks as he walks slowly to the bed.

Joe takes his hand and interlaces their fingers. “Each day I see you differently,” he says as he pulls Nicky’s hand to his lips and kisses the knuckles. “In a new light.”

“Ah Yusuf,” Nicky says, leaning over the bed to replace his knuckles with his lips. “You never change. Ever the hopeless romantic.”

“Is that a complaint?” Joe asks when their lips part.

“No, never,” Nicky says as he climbs back into bed.

Their bodies fit perfectly together, as they ever have. And yet each time they are intimate is different from every time before. It is love incarnate. Emotion made flesh. A thousand years of knowing each other, and each day learning something new. It is all these things and Nicky will never tire of it.

They lie together afterward, sated, fingers playing across skin, mouths idly kissing at bodies. 

Nicky tangles his fingers in Joe’s hair and lives in the moment, glad to have these quiet times. There are no bullets to rip through flesh and no swords and knives to cut and slice skin. The only thing that exists is the room they are in, and the two of them sticky with sweat and still as in love as they were almost a thousand years before.

“I know what you’re thinking about,” Joe says.

“You think you know me so well,” Nicky jokes with a hint of a smile.

“Coffee,” Joe says. “Everyone has their vice. Andy has baklava, and you have coffee. Especially in Malta. The coffee in Malta is your favourite.” 

They don’t mention Booker's passion for literature. It’s for the best, that sadness shouldn’t taint their happiness. And they don’t know Nile well enough yet to guess her vice; she might not even know it herself yet. She’s very young.

Nicky groans at the thought of the hot, spiced coffee sold in the cafes just down the street. “And what about you?” Nicky asks, turning on his side and propping himself up on his elbow. “The great Yusuf Al-Kaysani has no vice?”

“It is my love for you Niccolo,” Joe says seriously. “You are the unending fire that burns in my soul.”

Nicky smiles. “So if I were to say to you, that tomorrow you would no longer be able to obtain the fancy boots you get from New Zealand, that would be no problem. Correct?”

Joe’s head falls back into the pillows. “You have never understood the value of a good pair of boots,” he groans, but he’s smiling.

“I walk on them,” Nicky says with a sly grin. “When they wear out I get a new pair. What is there to understand?”

Joe shakes his head. “Next time I won’t order any for you too then.”

“Yes you will,” Nicky says, falling onto his back again.

“Yes I will,” Joe echoes.

Their heads flop toward each other and they just look. Bright green eyes locked with dark brown.

Nicky sips from a pristine white porcelain coffee cup, sitting in the sun outside of a small cafe.

Joe sits across from him, and they breathe in the familiar smell of sun baking stone buildings and streets.

“Some things never change,” Joe says, clinking his cup against Nicky’s.

“And some things do,” Nicky says, watching people wander down the street: tourists and locals mixing and mingling.

“Such as what?” Joe asks. “Are you thinking about Andy’s new found mortality?”

Nicky nods and meets Joe’s eye. “One day it will happen to us too,” he says.

“But who can know when,” Joe replies. “That way lies madness Nicky. To fear the when.”

Nicky nods.

It’s an old discussion they’ve had before. But they’ve never watched one of their own die and stay dead. Quynh was different. Andy’s impending doom weighs heavy on Nicky.

“And yet the when must come,” Nicky replies, taking another sip of the coffee, heavy with spices dancing across his tongue.

“And on that day let us hope we are taken at the same time,” Joe says solemnly. “But now is not the time to dwell, fire of my soul.”

Nicky can’t help but smile at that, and shake his head. He’s still adjusting to being open about their love in public places. For many years it was forbidden and caused them much strife. Joe has taken to the modern world more easily in that respect; but then, he’s always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve.

“What shall we do in Malta?” Nicky asks, sipping again and sitting back in his chair. Joe is right, there is no sense in worrying about something out of their control.

“What do we always do in Malta?” Joe asks with a shrug. “Go where the wind takes us and enjoy each other’s company.”

“And drink coffee,” Nicky says with a smile.

“And drink coffee,” Joe says, holding his cup to clink against Nicky’s again.

Nicky drains his cup, the dregs at the bottom assaulting his senses with anise and clove and a hint of orange. His senses flooding, he decides, much the same as he always does during an existential crisis such as this one, to live in the moment. What else is life for but to enjoy, and he’s been gifted with such a life and such a companion to spend it with.

“Alright,” Nicky says, seeing that Joe has finished as well. He stands and holds a hand out to Joe. “Let us go where the wind takes us.”

They start off down the street with no destination in mind.


End file.
